


breathe.

by springhibiscus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Female My Unit | Kamui | Corrin, Heavy Angst, Not Beta Read, Post-Game(s), Survivor Guilt, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springhibiscus/pseuds/springhibiscus
Summary: Maybe the war is over, but time has yet to heal anything.(post-birthright/conquest, not specified, just not revelations)





	breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> hey..... What's up... I wrote this on my phone at midnight-1:30ish AM and is not beta read,,. We die like men.
> 
> I have a lot of feelings, and well. Idk. I wanted to write corlas , and I meant to write like 3 sentences before sleeping but it snowballed and got longer and heavier than I planned. Whoops.
> 
> I don't specify which path Corrin took in this story, I wanted to leave this open to whatever you want. Revelations is a no-no, however.

Sometimes Corrin sits by the fireplace, where the Yato is hung upon the wall and thinks. Thinks of all the choices she's had to make for this illusion of peace.

 

Because although the war is over, there hasn't been enough time for the scars to heal, let alone fade. And Corrin is determined not to forget, to convince herself that she cannot, at _any_ cost forget the sacrifices that have been made to reach this so called 'peace’.

 

It's not right for her to think that she's the only one hurting because of her decisions.

 

Choosing a side between Hoshido and Nohr— no real “correct” answer, dooming her to an endless cycle of guilt and suffocation in her own thoughts. Her conscience is an ocean, and she's drowning in it, being pulled into the deep with no chance of being saved— that lifeline is long gone. It had faded along with a certain blue haired songstress when the war had reached its conclusion.

 

The casualties— her dead mother and siblings haunt her at every step. How is it fair that she may continue to live, but they cannot? Their lives have been cut short, by none other than Corrin, why hadn't it been her who died? Why is fate so cruel? Why them?

 

The kingdoms— one in ruin, struggling to keep itself together after their losses, the other, wading in that bittersweet win. But is it really a win if both countries are still suffering? Corrin can feel the burning gazes on her back every time she leaves the safety of her quiet home—she's not blind. The staring townspeople who may laud her as a hero, but know that she really hasn't done anything worthy of such praise.

 

Killing people doesn't make you a hero, and if it did, that would make murderers heroes in this way. And Corrin is the farthest from what she believes a hero should be.

 

Looking back, maybe there was a way to avoid all of this. A way to stay neutral, perhaps, would've saved them. She could’ve stayed out of it, and she wouldn't feel this burning guilt in her veins.

 

But what, the other voice in her head asks, would stop her two sets of siblings from dying at the hands of each other? She wouldn't have any blood on her hands, maybe, but even thinking “ _what_ if?” makes her a coward. That's just hiding, like how she hid from every problem that came her way. Hiding away in Shirasagi as a child, from the court and politics, and the ugly truth of how her lineage wasn't what everyone thought it was. Hiding in the Northern Fortress, unaware of the cruel reality of the outside world. Hiding from her actions, under the pretense that her beliefs were right and the _only_ thing she could've done was fight— fight a country, fight her siblings, fight the sinking feeling in her gut telling her, _screaming_ that _this isn't right_ but still not doing anything about it.

 

“Corrin?” a warm hand sets itself on her shoulder and she is momentarily shocked out of her thoughts. It's Silas, and she's glad to see him, but also not, because right now she wants to curl up in a ball and disappear into her thoughts.

 

“Lost in thought?” he inquires, and Corrin remembers Azura singing that ancient song, about the waves and being alone and she almost, _almost_ lets out a sob. She misses Azura more than she can ever put into words, and yet again is Corrin at fault for another pointless death. She should've known how dangerous it was for Azura to be using that power so much, she should've known, she should've _done something_ —

 

_One._

 

_Two._

 

_Three._

 

_Breathe in._

 

_Breathe out._

 

Finally, she sighs, and manages to mumble, “Yeah, something like that.”

 

Silas quirks an eyebrow, and asks, “You want to talk about it?”, with so much worry in his voice that Corrin wants to yell at the top of her lungs, _I don't deserve your pity!_ She doesn't, and that's the end of it, she tells herself.

 

“I… well… I was thinking about the war,” Corrin confesses, and Silas pulls her closer to him, so that the back of her head is now resting on his chest, and his arms are wrapped around her protectively.

 

“They wouldn't want you to live like this,” he tells her, and she slumps against him and mutters, “Happily?”

 

Silas is quiet for a moment, and the soft crackling of the fire fills the room, all too similar to the background noise of _that_ day.

 

“No,” he finally responds, “drowning in guilt and what-ifs. I know you, Corrin,” he moves his right hand away to poke her gently between the ribs, “and I know you're blaming yourself for their fate every single waking moment. We can't change the past. What do you think your brother would say if he saw you like this? Live for him. Live for them. Their sacrifices, what would they be for if you let yourself get swallowed up by the past, too distracted to live the life your siblings gave you?”

 

Silence sets in for another couple of minutes, but this time Corrin focuses not on the sounds but the soft rise and fall of Silas’ chest as he just _breathes_ behind her.

 

“I think I'm scared, Silas,” Corrin admits, “I'm scared. That's the truth. What if I do let go, and I forget? What if I forget what they've done for me? How can I just live, like nothing happened? I can't let go of what happened, because I feel like if I do, I'll be shutting out an important part of myself, of my _history_ … and I don't know if I want to lose that.”

 

“You don't have to forget, or pretend, Corrin. Just live. Breathe. Enjoy life for them. Your mother. Your brother. And everyone we've lost. We're alive because of their efforts, and I don't think any of them would want you to lose yourself to memories because you were afraid to move on.”

 

Silas brushes the tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes away and leans down to kiss her on the forehead.

 

Maybe she hadn't made the best choices during the war, but now she's sure she's making the best one now.

 

_I'll live for them._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! let me know if I should throw more angst at the corlas tag


End file.
